


The Art of Loving a Ghost

by heavyheart



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyheart/pseuds/heavyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just another fight, with Harry throwing accusations and Louis standing still, because he knows how Harry is, knows that sometimes his boyfriend just needs to get things out of his system through too-loud voices and clenched fists. It’s just another fight, until Louis leaves and Harry never sees him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Loving a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Character death is usually Leandra's thing, but. This happened, and I like it well enough, so here is my baby (previously titled 'What Hurts The Most' on my tumblr).

It’s just another fight, with Harry throwing accusations and Louis standing still, because he knows how Harry is, knows that sometimes his boyfriend just needs to get things out of his system through too-loud voices and clenched fists. It’s just another fight, until it isn’t.

The subject is one that they both avoid at all costs, only spoken of late at night when they’re more asleep than awake, or in passing with a light tone and a teasing jibe, because it’s one of those things that’s untouchable. So precious and awful and dangerous that they both choose more often than not to pretend as if the problem doesn’t even exist, that if they ignore it and refuse to speak of it long enough, it might disappear. But Harry is angry and fuming and he just wants Louis to  _respond_ , wants him to yell back or shove him or at the very least mutter one of those biting, snide remarks that he’s famous for. But Louis is stone faced, patient and waiting for him to run out of steam, so Harry lets it slip, that thing that they keep so carefully tucked away in the back of their minds.

“Would you just _look at me_?” Harry screams, hands fisted in his own head of curls in frustration, his last attempt to keep himself from completely coming undone and lashing out at Louis. He isn’t even sure what they were fighting about anymore- whether it’s something one of them had said or if it’s something pettier, like how Harry keeps forgetting to wait at their spot in locker bay after school or if Louis had left his wet towel on Harry’s floor and soaked the carpet through  _again_ \- but it doesn’t really matter at this point because all he wants is a reaction. “Is this how it’s going to be, then? Are you just gonna to ignore me until you leave me behind for University? Really, Lou,  _really_?” It’s a cruel overreaction, because it hurts Harry to say it just as much as it does Louis to receive the words, flung at him from across the space of Louis’ bedroom. They hit him like cold water.

Louis’ face finally betrays some emotion- at first slight panic filtering through his eyes until it’s replaced with heavy lidded remorse. “Harry,” his voice is controlled, and Harry hates it. "Please don't do this."

Harry already regrets it (the second the anguish showed on the other boys face he wanted to snatch back the words), but now they're here they might as well face it, because it's not just going to dissapear and he knows that, and it's tearing him apart. "So you just want me to ignore it, then? Pretend that we- _you and me, Lou_ \- aren't just a huge fucking time bomb?" The fight's run out of his bloodstream by now. His bones feel heavy, his thoughts weak and slow. There's a pregnant pause.

The carpet of Louis' floor masks the sound of Harry's footsteps, but leaving has the same effect. And if he thinks about it, walking away from this fight feels a little bit more permanent than all the other ones, because even if Louis is to chase after him (which he will, because it's Louis, and he's Harry), it’s just a matter of time before he’ll disappear to London for school and forget all about Harry. They still have a year, he knows that, still have nine months before Louis is gone, but now there’s a timeline, and that’s scary, that’s bloody terrifying. 

Passing all four of Louis’ sisters on the way out is dreadful, wiping away tears with the back of his hand before dropping a kiss to each of the twins foreheads and heading for the door. They watch after him silently, not entirely used to the fights, which were usually well hidden or easily resolved. On the drive home Harry lets himself cry, quiet tears escaping down his cheeks as his eyes burn red hot, because it’s raining hard and he figures he can barely see the road as it is, so  _why the fuck not_. This whole thing, with Louis and Harry and the stretch of distance they can't escape and the creeping loneliness that's already begun to settle in his bones, it's all inevitable. Harry hates it.

Of course he’s faced with the unfortunate luck of running straight into his mum on his way to his bedroom, knocking the pile of towels she has bundled in her arms, which are still warm from the dryer, onto the ground. “Shit, sorry, here-“

“What happened?” Anne gasps, yanking Harry’s chin upwards so he’s forced to lock eyes with her before twisting himself out of her grip. He can see her take in his glassy eyes and trembling bottom lip. “Oh, baby what’s wrong, what happened?” 

Harry huffs out a simple “Louis,” before stalking past her and into his room, flinging himself onto his bed and burying his face in his pillow as he waits for her footsteps to subside. He has a feeling she knows not to worry too much, because him and Louis have a habit of fighting and making up within the span of a day. His chest tightens at the thought though, because someday it won't be that quick, and some day they're going to be ripped apart. He already misses the apple cinnamon smell of Louis shampoo, and he can feel his resolve fading the more he thinks about it, about the boy who swept him off his feet and made him feel more at home than anything had, ever. 

It’s only five minutes later that Louis appears in his doorway, pushing it open cautiously as he surveys Harry, who’s stuffed himself into one of Louis’ sweatshirts and sits huddled in a ball on his bed, eyes still puffy and red.

“Haz,” Louis breathes out, and Harry can hear him put his keys on his bed side table before taking tiny steps towards him. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry, please come here.”

Harry might be acting a little bit silly, because the fight was his fault, after all, it always is, but he shakes his head slightly and turns himself around without breaking out of his tightly formed ball. “No,” He murmurs. He’s already forgiven Louis, but hearing the other boy apologize can’t hurt.

“Louis, I think you should go,” The voice and words don’t match up with what Harry is expecting at all, and he whips around, only to be faced with his very sullen faced step dad, grabbing Louis by the collar. 

“Robin,” Harry protests, shooting up out of his bed and trying to sandwich himself between the two.

Louis shifts awkwardly, not wanting to make Harry’s protective step dad any more upset. “Harry, it’s fine, if he wants me to go, I can go.”

“I’ve seen you come home upset too often these days, young man, and I’m pretty damn tired of it.” Robin isn’t a mean guy, but the tone of his voice is very final, and Harry let’s out a strangled cry before getting out of the way.

Louis straightens himself when Robin lets go, offering a weak smile to his boyfriend. “I’ll call you later, yeah? We can work it out.” 

“Here’s your keys,” Harry says meekly, and then he’s gone, leaving the slight scent of vanilla and something that’s simply Louis in his wake.

Robin gives Harry a sympathetic look before speaking. “Look, son, I just think you should think about how Louis treats you before you go and forgive him again, alright?”

Harry doesn’t fight it, doesn’t point out that it’s really him that’s treating Louis like shit, that he’s the one who starts the fights and throws things and loses his voice from shouting too much. He just shoots an annoyed glare at his step dad and shuts the door in his face. For a while he contemplates calling him, hands itching to reach for his phone, to send a text, or leave a voice mail, or anything, because he doesn’t want them to be fighting anymore and he wants him to come back over, but he knows they need a little bit of space for things to really cool down, so he shoves the need down and pretends as if the wait isn’t killing him.

He eventually leaves his room to apologize to his mum for being rude earlier, only to find his clutching the home phone in her hand, face gone pale and knuckles white from her death grip on the reciever. She doesn’t even move when he walks into the kitchen, just stands and stares straight ahead, mouth hung slightly ajar in horror.

“Mum?” Harry asks, worry rising in his stomach. “Mum! What’s wrong, what happened? Mum!!” He shakes her shoulders when she still doesn’t respond, and finally grabs the phone from her, hearing someone speaking on the other end.

“Hello? Who is this?”

A gruff voice sighs, and then starts to talk slowly. “This is the Cheshire Police Department, calling for Harry Styles.”

“This is him,” Harry says, confusion rolling over him. 

“We’re calling on behalf of Louis Tomlinson, as you’re his emergency contact aside from his family.” He half smiles, because he had no idea that he was, before the bile rises in his throat.

“Louis? What happened to him? Is he okay? What happened?” Harry’s usually slow as honey voice is sped up, going almost uninterpreted by the man on the other end, but he manages to make out enough of it to respond.

“Sir, Louis got in an accident tonight. His family isn’t picking up their home phone.” 

Harry feels his entire body turn cold with fear. “Uh, it’s- it’s just his sisters home, he’s watching them this weekend, his mom- she’s, she’s out of town.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Did he break any bones, or anything?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line.

“I’m afraid to inform you that Louis Tomlinson was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [stylintwat](http://stylintwat.tumblr.com/askbox), say hello with your feedback and such :))


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